“Our lines have to continue,” Kywyn said, tone careful. “The Mother rules everything here, Sean, even things like this. If Isobel bears this child now, her noble line persists regardless of whether she lives or dies.”
His attention danced across each of them, finally resettling on Kywyn. “Why is the assumption that this means she’ll die soon?”
“Because she’s so young,” Blaire said and perched on a chair near Bel. “Luxorians can’t have children young. We barely have children at all. If she was destined to have a long life, her heir could wait.” She rubbed Bel’s arm. “Are you feeling better with the tonic?”
Isobel’s restrained tears gave way to sobs, and Sean was tugged toward her, falling to his knees at her feet.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” Sean replied, pushing wet curls away from her face. “We’ll get through it.”
She looked up at him, her tears slowing. “We?”
He nearly laughed. “Yes,we. Did you think I’d abandon you?” Sean took her hand, and she squeezed so tight his knuckles popped.
“Things have been—strained,” she said.
“That doesn’t matter.”
And it didn’t. Not at all.
She gazed into his eyes, searching, and her voice dropped to a mere breath of air. “I don’t want this.”
That could have been the theme of their entire relationship.
Sean’s mind spun in several directions.
Why?
How?
Why them?
Why now?
Then came a heartbeat of terror, alub-dubthat taunted him.
Father. Father. Father.
How much more would be piled on his shoulders? The weight was so heavy, he wanted to sink to the floor. Instead, he looked toward his aunt. Behind her, Cole gazed on, expression heavy.
Tears filled Blaire’s eyes. “Your mother would have been thrilled.”
A sharp ache stabbed Sean straight in the chest at that thought. His mother would never know his child. And Blaire was right—she would have been ecstatic.
But no. Tragedy had split his family to pieces, and Sean feared it would never be made whole. Another shiver racked his frame.
His mother was dead.
His aunt wasn’t even related to him.
He barely knew his father.
The mother of his child had stolen his soul.
How had it happened that the most trusted person in his life was David Fucking Berkeley?
As he thought it, his head rose, and he found that steadfast green stare again.
